The new phones have arrived.
I'm nervous. I'm in charge of transferring content from old to new.
It's not as easy as it sounds.
I pictured buying new phones, following their steps, transferring my pictures. Boom. Done, using new phones.
Back to reality.
We have two phones, and the internet in our house is a jetpack. Very limited. One bar at best, maybe 2 bars on a good day.
So. When you get your phones, there is a process to follow. Words like backup your old phone. Turn off old phone. Turn on new phone. Follow on screen instructions.
For you, that may be a simple process. For me, it became a certain kind of torture.
Firstly, I use my phone like it's my right hand. I need it. I cannot function without it. Does that make me an addict? I don't know.
So. My hubby informed me the one day that the phones that I ordered had arrived. There was a box sitting on the dining room table with papers scattered next to it. One phone box was opened already. He had to check out how big the Pixel 6 was compared to his Pixel 3a. The Pixel 6 is slightly wider and slightly longer. It still fits in his pocket okay, but the strap to keep it in the pocket has to be longer.
As I began the process, I did his phone first. Our daughter has sent him pictures of her daughter over the last three years, so he proudly shows any and all pictures of the little girl. Grandpa's girl.
These pictures need to transfer to the new phone.
For some reason, I failed at getting them to transfer.
I stopped in at my local Verizon outlet store and was told that it was a simple matter to extract photos and that I should not worry. If I continued to have troubles to just stop back in with the phone and they would take care of me.
I was unable to get his photos transferred using the jetpack. It used up almost 15 GB of my data just trying to accomplish the deed. Still unsuccessful. I ended up using a transfer adapter and a USB Stick.
He finally told me, after hours and hours and hours of struggle, to just get his phone up and running, that the pictures did not need to be there.
Unfortunately, after all this time, the activate phone invitation was nowhere to be found. I ended up going on my laptop and conversing with the representative who asked for the Sim card number and the Me number.
He, or she, was able to activate the phone.
There is a feature called Talkback, and somehow during this process, it got switched on.
Now there was a female voice shouting out what was on the screen. She shouted out what was happening. He got a text. She shouted that he had a text. When we tried to get out of her screen, she started yelling about how one touch was to turn her on, and two touches was to turn her off. Three fingers sliding across the screen was too much and the battery started to overheat.
My hubby shouted that he didn't want it talking to him. The phone got flustered and started acting all hysterical.
The phone kept shouting, although what seemed like shouting could have been avoided had we turned the volume down, but it was on the maximum.
Finally, he stroked the screen from the bottom, got the window moved up and swooshed it off the screen. At this point, the phone was quiet. Serene. Almost likeable.
Oh boy. That was a terrible situation.
He told me that all was okay that he'd use it like it was and he'd try not to get it worked up again.